


Fire and Smoke

by scrapbullet



Series: Fever [3]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Asexual Character, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mild Sexual Content, Not Beta Read, Omega Credence Barebone, Omega Original Percival Graves, Post-Movie(s), Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:59:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9577175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: Not once has Credence entered a heat at the same time as Graves, not for the twelve months since Credence discovered him vulnerable and in need. Not once.Until now.





	

It’s not an issue until their cycles sync. 

Graves, as an older omega, is settled and comfortable in his own skin. His heat begins on the fourth of every month, without fail, and lasts for two days. During that time his hormones will peak twice on each day, releasing a heady cocktail of pheromones to entice a prospective mate. So precise is Graves’ cycle that he marks it in his personal diary ahead of time, so routine that he easily books his leave many months in advance. Yes, Graves knows his own body, and knows it well, and so prepares accordingly.

Credence, on the other hand, suffers from sporadic, debilitating heats that can strike at any time. Whether it is due to the lack of a parental omega to soothe and blanket him with scent and comfort, or to a physical issue is uncertain, but they try their best to ensure that Credence remains safe if caught unaware in a public place. 

Only once has Graves had to quickly apparate them home to safety, nostrils stinging from the acrid aroma of dominant alpha’s in rut. 

They make it work. They gentle each other through each others heats, pin and hold one another down and mark with scent, completely non-sexual yet charged with the kind of intimacy akin to a bonded pair. When one is mindless with base desire the other will purr and nuzzle close, lips on scorching flesh the furthest they will go. And, when flesh is raw and chapped, muscles taut and aching, they will settle into the large tub in Graves’ apartment and wash themselves clean.

Not once has Credence entered a heat at the same time as Graves, not for the twelve months since Credence discovered him vulnerable and in need. Not once.

Until now.

Credence, too distracted by the numerous books on Graves’ shelf, doesn’t quite notice at first. Curled up on the chaise he flips through a volume on ancient runes, a fingertip tracing each line and curve as he mouths along with the words, consumed by a hunger to _learn_. It’s a fascinating world he’s stumbled upon - _a world he should have grown up in; an awkward boy with too-long limbs and gangly grace walking through the doors of Ilvermorny with trepidation, young and impressionable and filled with joy and fascination_ \- and he intends to devour everything he possibly can, mind veritably swimming with information.

So, of course, it isn’t until he rises to pour himself a glass of juice, does he realise that the seat of his pants are wet.

Graves, dressed down in shirt and pants, bare-footed, relaxes in the armchair opposite the chaise with a small pile of paperwork; pristine even clad in casual-wear. The mouth-watering scent of pre-heat exudes from his pores, tantalising, and yet Graves is nonchalant - he knows how much precious time there is remaining, and intends to use it wisely.

Suddenly, his restlessness is all too clear. Suddenly, Credence is all too aware of his skin, pulled tight over his bones. Sweat beads on the back of his neck and his glands are swollen, hot and sensitive. Mercy Lewis, he’s close and he never realised! So close and utterly in sync with Graves.

Flustered, Credence forces himself to sip his drink, for it wont be long before the first peak hits and food will be the furthest thing on his mind. Indeed, it wont be long until Graves, too, is in the throes of it, and then what will they do? How is it possibly going to work?

Biting his lip, Credence shudders as that perfectly lovely smell invades his senses. Now, the smell of his fellow omega is tempting, enough that Credence feels his body contract and release, followed by a hot rush of slick. It trickles down his leg and soaks into the soft, worn wool; a beacon to any that might see its damp presence.

Graves pauses. His hand wavers over the document on his lap, head tipping up and nostrils flaring as he scents the air. “Credence,” he rumbles, intrigued, “are you in heat?”

The glass slips from lax fingers, and Credence is struck by a vicious cramp, hitching forward with a moan. “ _Yes_ , but I- I _want_ -”

With a flick of his wand and a muttered spell Graves sweeps shattered glass away, lest it cause undue injury. There’s a predatory allure to him as he moves, chest vibrating with that comely vibration that calls and invites; full of promises. “It’s alright, we’ve just... synchronised, is all,” he says, backing Credence up against the wall, “nothing to worry about.” Ducking his head down Graves fits his nose into the dip below Credence’s ear, and inhales, nice and deep. “ _Credence. You smell good._ ”

“So do you.” Like smoke it clouds Credence’s mind - thick and cloying and intense - a restless ardour leading him to hook his fingers into the waistband of Graves’ pants and _tug_ , all the better to skate trembling fingers down the crack and rub over Graves’ slippery hole. “I want this.” Credence gasps, licking dry lips. “I want _you_.”

Graves laughs breathlessly, eyes liquid black. Spreading his thighs he angles his hips back enticingly. “Beautiful boy. I want to pin you to the bed and eat your ass until you cry.” 

Credence exhales shakily. “I don’t-”

“No?” Letting the now-ruined pants fall to the floor Graves steers Credence toward the bedroom, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses to as much bare, hot skin as he can find. “ _Oh_. I see. Yes, I know what you want; let me give it to you.”

 _God, yes_ , Credence blasphemes, and the tightness in his chest eases along with the fear. Mr Graves does not expect that brand of participation, even though Credence’s body blooms like a flower in the sun. Instead, Credence is stripped, quick and efficient, and deposited on sheets still warm. “I want you,” Credence repeats desperately, and when Graves has removed the final obstacle - the rumpled cotton shirt - Credence falls upon him with eagerness, kissing the surprised huff from his mouth.

Graves, pinned to the bed, arches and shows his throat, indolent. Like this he is the epitome of omegan beauty, eyes heavy-lidded; needy and gorgeous and all too aware of it. “I know you, my beautiful boy. You may not want my prick in you but you want this, don’t you? The power... The _control_.” Graves smiles, infuriatingly smug and yet hopelessly soft, expression one of fond affection. “Take it.” _Take me_.

Lips pull back from Credence’s teeth in a wordless snarl, but he knows that Graves is right. Knows, and does not care, hitching Graves’ thighs wide so as slide his index finger in deep. One finger becomes two, becomes three, and each thrust into the slick hole forces such wonderful sounds from Graves’ lips. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the air, accompanied by the spiced sweetness that is uniquely _theirs_ , and so they fall, gladly, into the inferno-

("I think I love you," Credence confesses, hand buried wrist-deep in Graves' ass to simulate a knot. Graves' hole, stretched taut, flutters restlessly, contracting and releasing, milking relentlessly as Graves arches and orgasms, semen spurting from his prick. )

\- neither care if they are burned. A heat is called such for a reason, after all, and it consumes them.


End file.
